Stage Fright
by Fairly Odd New Yorker
Summary: Constance overcame her stage fright but can Imogen overcome hers as well? Episode addition to Cinderella in Boots. Femslash. HB/ID Please R&R
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N)-** Rewritten, somewhat, and scenes added! Enjoy? This is for strax / typicalraINbow - she said she liked this fic and I was mad at myself for never completing it despite how short it was meant to be. 

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><p><strong>-Stage Fright-<strong>

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><p>Imogen caught Fenella and Griselda kissing each other on the cheek.<p>

The gesture made her blush, feeling as if she'd just eavesdropped on a private moment between the two, and she almost wanted to say nothing to them about it, until they started giggling and pushing each other.

"Settle down, girls!" she barked, "We have work to do!"

"Sorry, Miss Drill," Fenella apologized, "Just got caught under the mistletoe, that's all."

Imogen raised a brow, and looked up to see the bit of mistletoe hanging from a string that the girls had managed to loop around one of the high beams of the makeshift stage.

"Miss Hardbroom's not going to like this one bit," she warned, "I think it's best you take it down this instant."

"Oh come on, Miss, it's all in good fun!" Griselda insisted.

"It's Christmas!" Fenella added.

"For the hundredth time it is _not_ Christmas, Fenella Feverfew; it's December twenty-third," she reminded in a huff, eying the mistletoe once more.

Finally, she relented.

"If anyone asks, I had no idea that thing was there."

The pair exchanged grins, "Yes, Miss Drill." They chorused respectfully.

"Now go and get changed into your costumes, go on," she coaxed, hurrying them along.

Imogen crossed the room to check the ropes for the second curtain that would reveal the set, and found that the rope was high up, out of her reach.

"Charlie!" Imogen called out in annoyance.

_Some assistant stage manager_, she thought with a sigh.

She stared up at the rope above her, just beyond her reach when on her tippy-toes. Finally, being unable to wait for the boy any longer, she took an almighty jump and managed to snatch the rope in her open palm. She hung in the air for a brief second before her body weight pulled the inside curtain down to meet the ground, just as she'd wanted it to.

"You called?" Charlie asked as he jogged up to her, out of breath.

"I handled it," she replied with an accomplished grin.

"Miss Crochet needs your help getting everyone ready with their costumes," Charlie said, "I've been running back and forth trying to find what everyone needs - a lot of the props seem to be spread all over the place!"

"Well, see to that then, I'll talk with Miss Crochet ..." she brushed aside, fixing her overalls as she headed over to the chanting teacher with a spring in her step.

"What's the matter, Lavinia?"

"Oh, Imogen!" she cried exasperatedly, turning to her colleague, her blonde hair a stressed mess, "We've got less than a half hour until curtains call and half the girls aren't even properly dressed yet! I've been running around like a mad person ..."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact ..." her voice lowered as she neared the sportswoman, "Constance has refused to come out and let me examine her costume. I daresay she's still upset about the whole thing ..."

"Well, of _COURSE_ I'm upset!" Constance's voice thundered seemingly from nowhere, making Imogen jump, but she instantly regained herself, hands on her hips as she stared at the ground, expecting the woman to appear before her, but she did not.

"-And I don't appreciate you talking about me behind my back, _Lavinia_!" she added in a huff.

Imogen caught sight of a pair of very familiar and very bare feet from behind a dressing curtain. But, just to be certain, she pointed towards the makeshift room and mouthed to Lavinia 'Is she in there?'

Lavinia nodded, suppressing a smile before taking off to help the girls.

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><p>Imogen didn't even announce herself, she just slipped in behind the curtain without a sound ... or, she would have, had there not been a handful of holiday bells that had been tied to the curtain. They jingled noisily, announcing her arrival, and causing a panic-stricken Constance to hurl a defensive spell at the non-witch. A defensive spell Imogen was used to, but it never ceased to annoy her. The burst of red light took control of her right hand and smacked it over her eyes, blocking the potions mistress from her sight.<p>

"It's only me," she complained quietly.

She felt the floor vibrate ever so slightly as the witch approached her. Imogen felt the older woman's soft slender fingers brush against her own as she pulled them gently from her face, allowing her to gaze into those brown penetrating eyes.

"Hmm," was all she said, cutting her an annoyed look. Her other hand was over her shoulder, pinching the back of her white fairy godmother dress.

"Zip me up," she ordered, letting, turning her back to her.

Imogen found herself staring at the witch's exposed back, her usually pale skin a flushed pink color from the heat of the stage lights and ... was that a white bra? She wasn't aware the woman owned such a thing. Perhaps she'd charmed it to turn white ... or else stolen one of her own …

"Sometime _tonight_ would be nice!"

Imogen snapped out of her thoughts, feeling foolish. Constance always seemed to be able to feel the non-witch's gaze upon her; it had been that way since she'd gotten the teaching position here.

Quickly and shakily, she zipped up the back of the tutu, and promptly the brunette marched over to the mirror across the small makeshift room.

Imogen shyly came up beside her, averting her eyes from the woman's naked legs with a blush. She never saw her lover's body under normal lighting, and she knew how self-conscious Constance was about her body being exposed.

"I look like an idiot," Constance said finally after staring her costume up and down with the utmost scrutiny. Imogen gazed at her in awe.

She looked like an angel. Her dark hair, though still bound in her traditional bun, contrasted beautifully with the white tutu, and her normally pale skin looked pink and flushed under the warm stage lights. Imogen had actually thought she'd laugh at the sight of her dressed up as a fairy, but she had pulled it off quite nicely. Well, more than nicely. She took her damn breath away.

"Your silence says it all," Constance said disgustedly with a heavy sigh as she looked up to the rafters, "I should just disappear to my room and feign sickness," she said as she folded her arms. Imogen grabbed her instinctively, preventing her transport if she'd tried it.

"Nonsense, Constance!" she exclaimed with a smile, wrapping her arm around her waist and resting her head upon her shoulder, looking into her lover's eyes through the mirror, "You look gorgeous!"

"You're mocking me, I know it," she growled quietly, giving her a suspicious glare.

"You _are_ half-dressed, though ..." Imogen murmured, looking around and turning away to search for the rest of the costume.

"_Exactly_ my point!" she snapped, "I can't go out there looking ..." she lowered her voice and said through gritted teeth, "_half naked_!"

Imogen grinned, shaking her head as she rummaged through the duffle bag on the floor beside the stool, "No, I mean there's more to the costume than just the tutu. Look," she said happily, brandishing a star-tipped wand, "Something you can beat me with."

Constance blushed profusely, snatching the wand from the gym mistress's hand. Imogen smiled mischievously and dove back into the bag.

"This is ridiculous."

"It's a pantomime; what did you expect?"

"And it doesn't help to cover anything up!"

"Quit fussing, and put these on," Imogen said flatly, tossing a pair of pantyhose over her shoulder, nearly hitting the deputy head in the face. Constance would've scolded her for it. She even contemplated for a brief moment to smack her in the head with the wand. But the overwhelming urge to cover her very exposed body took over, and she immediately plopped down onto the stool and hurried to put the leggings on, dropping her wand to the floor beside her.

She was slipping them on so hastily that Imogen paused in her search to watch her concernedly. She reached out and held her ankle firmly, and the witch froze at the touch, looking up at her questioningly.

"Calm down ..." she said under her breath.

Constance cut her an annoyed look, and lightly shook her foot free from her grasp, continuing in her plight.

"You pushed for this," the witch reminded, getting to her feet as she pulled the rest up to her waist.

"You know magic, don't you?" Imogen asked sarcastically, "Couldn't you have slipped a charm in to make your straw the longest?"

"The Witches Code, Imogen!" she exclaimed to herself in the mirror, horrified at the notion, "Magic must not be used for selfish or trivial gain!"

"I was told the fairy godmother costume was pink," she said, raising a brow.

Constance turned a dark shade of red as she faced her, arms folded, "Hardly against the Code! I looked absolutely horrid in pink! If anything I was doing the rest of the school a favor!"

Imogen got to her feet, gloves and ballet shoes in hand, "I think it's impossible for you to ever look horrid."

"You're supposed to say that," she sneered, rolling her eyes.

"No, I mean it," she cleared her throat, pushing aside the thoughts of a romantic moment being shared with them, what with the girls being in such close proximity and all ... She handed her the gloves, and Constance quickly covered her arms with the same greediness as she did the pantyhose.

"You are beautiful, Constance." She said honestly, "You shouldn't hide yourself so ..."

"I have my reasons, you know that," she muttered under her breath, avoiding her gaze. Imogen nodded, focusing on straightening out her long gloves, moving quickly to the collar of the taller woman's dress, which had become crooked in her hurried actions and the slanted look of it had been bugging the sports mistress.

"I don't mean showing more skin, Constance …I mean that you should let the girls see the nicer side of you …"

Imogen sighed, resting her hands on her shoulders as she stared seriously at her, "You've got fairy godmother in you. You know you do. You have heart, and it'd do you some good to show it sometime. And it doesn't matter what anyone thinks of your appearance - I'm sure you'll be able to frighten them off with a deadly glare afterwards ..."

Constance didn't appear to be listening. She just watched her as she spoke, her deep brown eyes getting slightly glassy, "I can't do this, Imogen."

"Yes, you can!" Imogen replied enthusiastically.

"_You_ should be wearing this; it'd be more redundant for you since we both know you won't touch a dress with a ten-foot pole!"

"Oh please," she scoffed, "I'd look too boyish."

"You're only boyish when you dress like one," she argued, motioning to the blonde's clothes, "Overalls, Imogen? Really?"

"I happen to like the overalls, thank you very much." she protested, offended as she thrust the ballet shoes at her, "And don't change the subject."

"Miss Drill!" Charlie's voice rang out.

"Coming, Charlie!" she called back, and Constance quickly grasped the straps of her overalls, dropping her shoes to the floor, "_Don't_," she pleaded, her walls crumbling down, fear evident in her eyes, "I can't go out like this. You know I can't."

Imogen sighed, giving in, "Okay, look. You need to go speak with Lavinia about it, and if you really can't go through with it, I'll cover for you."

Constance, overcome with emotion and gratitude, yanked Imogen's overall straps close and captured her lips with hers, almost knocking the smaller woman backwards. She grabbed the curtain for balance, which resounded in the loud jingling of bells.

"Thank you," she whispered close once she broke free.

"_Watch it_!" Imogen hissed back, "The girls ..."

Constance rolled her eyes, bending down to snatch up the ballet shoes Imogen had dropped, and shoving them on hastily.

Imogen felt terrible for reacting that way, but she wasn't comfortable with the rest of the school knowing about them yet. She knew Constance felt the same, but the witch had begun to take more risks lately and it was only a matter of time before they were caught in the act.

"You're one to talk," Constance muttered, "I might have a bit of stage fright now, but it's you who's got stage fright 'round the clock."

"Excuse me for wanting to keep my job," Imogen retorted, snatching up the fairy wand from the floor and handing it to her lover.

Constance took it, purposefully brushing against the non-witch's fingers as she did. She locked eyes with Imogen, those judging eyes of hers, before storming off, holding her fairy wand aloft as if brandishing a weapon.

Imogen sighed as she watched her go, angry with herself for having parted on such terms … but the show must go on.


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N)** - RE-READ THE FIRST CHAPTER PLEASE IT'S BEEN CHANGED A BIT! ENJOY!(?)

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><p>"I'm going on in ten," Constance breathed in the sports mistress's ear as she passed.<p>

Imogen smiled softly, and looked up in time to see the witch retreating in full fairy godmother costume, complete with tiara. The tall brunette glanced back at her briefly with a reassuring but apprehensive grin.

Imogen smirked, wanting so badly to tease her about the crown, but there wasn't any time left to spare. If she had a moment free to take a breath, someone else was calling her over to get something done.

And soon enough, just like every other day at Cackle's Academy, things went wrong.

Horribly wrong.

The pumpkin that was meant to be turned into a carriage exploded.

Of all the ways to lose a pumpkin!

Constance's voice was getting higher and higher by the second as her composure began to falter – and Imogen naturally found herself getting nervous as well.

She wanted to reassure Constance, but the eyes of their students were upon them. She suggested they could just magic up a pumpkin to magic into a carriage. The deputy headmistress chastised her for not remembering the Doctor Foster's effect. So now, on top of everything, she felt like an inattentive girlfriend.

She didn't have time to worry about that now – Mildred's magic started misfiring, causing her to zap whomever she touched!

And they were still without a replacement pumpkin!

Luckily for them, Ethel knew all of Mildred's lines and was set to go on in her place.

But they were still short a pumpkin.

Mr. Blossom and Ruby Cherrytree made an impromptu scene to fill in while the girls changed clothes, and this bought them some time for Charlie to find a pumpkin.

But soon enough, Constance's scene was up.

She could see her across the stage, waiting to enter from stage right, looking anxious and worried.

She gestured in the air in the shape of a pumpkin with a puzzled, questioning look on her face.

Imogen mouthed back 'I don't know' with a pained expression – she couldn't expect the show to go on without a vital prop!

But sure enough, Charlie appeared with a bag of carrots, and all was well again.

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><p>Imogen watched from offstage as Constance said her lines. She was amazed at how quickly and naturally the woman settled into her character, for a moment completely forgetting her reputation and just having fun for once.<p>

Imogen wished she could do the same …

She looked round to check that the girls were getting lined up for the next scene, and the mistletoe caught her eye …

She looked back to her lover as she sent the carriage on its way, curtseying to the audience, her smile broader than ever … Imogen wondered if this had been the first time she genuinely smiled like this in front of so many people …

The witch rushed backstage once the curtains closed, her face still flushed with the afterglow from her smiling.

"You did great," Imogen congratulated as the witch rushed past – she appeared not to have seen her at first for she stopped and looked around at her in surprise.

"Oh … thank you, Imogen," she replied with an awkward smile.

Imogen smiled back, a smile which faded as the witch disappeared backstage.

'_I should've kissed her then …'_ Imogen thought sadly, mentally kicking herself as she grabbed the rope and prepared to pull up the curtain for the next scene.

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><p>The backstage area was completely empty since the entire cast was now waltzing in the current scene … well, almost the entire cast …<p>

Slender arms slid around Imogen's waist from behind. Burgundy lips pressed against her neck and she shuddered, stepping out of the witch's touch but her hands remained firmly grasped on the ropes.

"Don't do this," Imogen protested as she watched the play unfold, "Not now."

"Why do you care?"

"I told you why."

"It can't be only because of our jobs. You're ashamed."

Imogen sighed, "I am not ashamed of you, Constance."

"No, you're not," she agreed, "You're ashamed of yourself."

The comment struck a nerve, causing Imogen to tighten her grip on the ropes.

She looked around and cut the fairy godmother a look.

"Do you really have to do this now?"

"Yes, I believe I do, because I've finally figured it out and I want an explanation."

"Just hush up and get ready for your bows," the sports mistress dismissed, hiding her tear-filled eyes from the witch as she kept her back to her, watching the scene.

Constance was silent for a moment before she finally disappeared with magick. Only then was Imogen able to release the breath she'd been holding.

She saw the witch watching her from across the stage, and she wiped her tears away in annoyance, keeping a strong face as she focused on her duties.

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><p>The final number finished, and the cast began to pile backstage to change out of their costumes and join the rest of the school in a small after-party event that they'd set up in the chanting classroom.<p>

Imogen began to gather the props, trying to keep herself as busy as possible in hopes that Constance wouldn't bother her and would hopefully just leave her alone for the entire night … but it was soon obvious to her that that was never going to happen, for she saw the fairy-costumed witch march over in her direction.

"Miss Drill, I need to have a word with you."

"I'm busy."

"That wasn't a question," Constance reminded, arms folded, "Now we can talk in private or we can discuss this right here and now. Either way, we are going to talk about it."

"_Not now_."Imogen replied slowly, almost daring her to bring their personal life out into the open for their students' ears to hear.

She sneered at her, her eyes dark and dangerous despite her current attire, and she opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut short by hushed laughter.

They both looked over to see Mildred and her friends biting back giggles as they glanced at the pair and eyed at something overhead.

"And just what are you all laughing at?" Constance snapped.

Imogen looked up, and her heart began to race.

"Sorry Miss, it's just …you're under the mistletoe." Mildred explained sheepishly.

Constance looked up and sneered at it, "And what have I told you girls about hanging mistletoe? I specifically said, outside the pantomime, there was to be no horseplay or game-playing this year whatsoever."

"But Miss, it was here during the pantomime …"

"Was it part of the play?" she asked sarcastically with a scowl, "No, it was not. Therefore—"

She was silenced as Imogen leaned over and planted a firm kiss on her cheek, causing the girls to erupt in excited giggles.

Constance was so unprepared for this gesture – all she could do was stare at Imogen, her eyes wide as Imogen looked back at her with a nervous grin. Eventually she snapped out of it, chastising the girls.

"All right, all right! You behave as if you've never seen a kiss before!" she sighed in annoyance, brushing it off as she stormed away to her dressing room, not discreet at all as she grabbed the sports mistress by one of her overall straps and dragged her along to her dressing room.

The girls seemed to think nothing of it– they probably assumed Miss Drill was going to get reprimanded for such a dangerous move.

In fact, Imogen expected that was exactly what was going to happen.

But Constance had other plans.

Once in the safety of the dressing room, she grabbed the little non-witch up by her overalls until she was on her tip-toes and kissed her passionately on the lips.

"Are you still ashamed of yourself?" Constance asked when she broke free to gasp for air, her forehead pressed to hers.

"Yes," Imogen replied honestly, and the witch's eyes flickered with concern, "But I'm trying to change that …"

Constance smiled, a smile which turned mischievous, "Good, you can start by helping me change out of these clothes."

Imogen choked back a laugh, "That is _not_ the kind of changing I meant," she corrected, but obliged as she stepped forward to help her out of her dress.

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><p><strong>(AN)** - if you didn't like the ending consider that I was up until 3am writing this. Please review! And Merry Christmas!


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